


Cinnamon

by angelview



Category: Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: ADHD, Alternate Universe - Coffee Shops & Cafés, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Angelview, Angst, Awkward Ben Solo, BUT LIGHT, Badass Rey, Bakery and Coffee Shop, Banter, Barista Rey (Star Wars), Baristas, Ben Solo Needs A Hug, Car Salesman Ben Solo, Coffee, Coffee Shops, Devoted Rey/Ben Solo | Kylo Ren, Doing this for fun, Enemies to Lovers, F/M, Feels, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Fluff and Humor, Happy Ending, I hope you like it, I may add more tags later, Light Angst, Light enemies to lovers, Mental Health Issues, Mentions of Therapy, Modern Era, Mutual Pining, New York City, POV Ben Solo, POV Rey (Star Wars), Rain, Rey Needs A Hug, Reylo - Freeform, Rich Ben Solo, Short & Sweet, Soft Ben Solo, Strangers to Lovers, Sunshine - Freeform, Sweet, ang3lview, reylo au, soft reylo
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-06-22
Updated: 2020-06-22
Packaged: 2021-03-04 12:48:07
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,872
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24850024
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/angelview/pseuds/angelview
Summary: Ben’s mood was as dark and brooding as the storm clouds overhead. He couldn’t help but suspect the world was conspiring against him, pushing button after button of his Armani suit. Ben wasn’t nice; Ben wasn’t friendly. So how was it that the magnetic barista he encountered by chance managed to absolutely captivate him? Ben and Rey couldn’t be more opposite... so why does he keep coming back for more?
Relationships: All Reylo, Armitage Hux/Rose Tico, Kylo Ren/Rey, Minor Gingerrose - Relationship, Rey & Ben Solo, Rey & Ben Solo | Kylo Ren, Rey/Ben Solo | Kylo Ren, very minor Hanleia bc obviously
Comments: 5
Kudos: 40





	Cinnamon

**Author's Note:**

> Hello friends it is i 
> 
> With a Reylo Coffee Shop AU
> 
> Chapter title reference:  
> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=CBQ4wbyjaQI

As Ben looked up, he saw that the sky seemed to have caught up with his mood.

The clouds hung over like a roof, dark and stormy. A storm was brewing, not in the vivacious, lovely way a typical act of nature does though; no, this was just dark, stormy, dull, bleak.

Grays and blacks inked into the other, but there was still that faint layer of sunlight that laced through each cloud. Bright enough to sting his eyes, but not bright enough to give any promise of pleasant weather.

_It would be that way_ , he scoffed. Not only did he miss his appointment that morning because his car had broken down, but that ginger snake, Hux, managed to sweep that client up before he even knew what was happening.

Hux had the foresight to be there just moments earlier than Ben had planned, much to the delight of the ever-busy client. He had the wisdom to read the man, staying silent so he could become fluent in his language; he could see the type. He found common ground within moments, reminiscing over preppy summers at Lewis Bay they each grew up with. Naturally, the man had breezily dismissed Ben without a second thought, allowing Hux to show him around the gallery.

The 2020 X-Wing M85 Sedan in Rebel Blue was sold within minutes.

Ben couldn’t deny his curiosity. Just how Hux was able to find such a personal, if not nostalgically endearing point of interest to win this entitled little man over so quickly; with Ben, he had been guarded in both friendliness and finance.

Hux just shrugged and his expression was neutral. “Keychain. Whydah Pirate Museum. It was hanging out of his pocket.”

It was enviable. Hux truly was a serpent; smooth, observant, crafty, and potentially venomous. He didn’t allow himself to delve deeper into his head than absolutely necessary, choosing to focus all of his attention and consideration on his target.

It wasn’t just a humanistic, ‘people’s person’ type quality either. No, Armitage Hux was swift and clever, watching everyone around him, seeing which link would connect his intentions together best.

At this point, Hux wasn’t even smug about it anymore, even though he did end up losing that promotion to Ben. No, he was content; comfortable with himself, fluent in his actions. He knew his mind, acting wisely being second nature.

He couldn’t stand it. He was tired of it. He ran late to that _stupid_ appointment with that _stupid_ client, all to miss his _stupid_ appointment with his therapist; he wanted to call her stupid too, but she wasn’t.

Ben hadn’t realized until somewhat recently that it wasn’t _normal_ to form conspiracies against yourself; to live in fear and paranoia; to have a constantly throbbing head brought on by a foul mood. Most people don’t actually think that way because it’s _not_ normal to be a living reservoir of anxiety and anger.

Dr. Holdo had assured him that he wasn’t solitaire in that mentality, that it was common. But he didn’t _care_ if it was common; something being _common_ doesn’t make it _normal_. It feels like going against his design and function, to constantly be fuming with bitterness and temper, like a defective motor heating up under stress.

‘ _People aren’t machines, Benjamin_ ,’ Dr. Holdo had said during their last session. She said it passively, trying to make light of it. He understood why, of course. She was there to defuse his riles, not stir them up. ‘We’ve all got our own kinks and imperfections.’

He knew what she actually meant, but his angry thoughts filtered her words so they came back to him, translated as: ‘ _you’re damaged_.’

Part of him knew that the world wasn’t really secretly in on some scam set out against him; he knew that the way he filtered his thoughts wasn’t necessarily accurate. He tried his best to practice what the doctor had said to do when he feels himself staring down from the edge.

‘ _For every negative thought, catch a positive one._ ’

He hissed through gritted teeth and shut his eyes, truing to come up with something— anything, really, but his mind went blank. It was as if his goal was to catch every tennis ball that would be thrown at him, but there were hundreds of people hurtling them at the same time; it was all a blur of madness and he could never grasp it all, only able to catch what’s easiest to wrap his grip around.

‘ _Negative thoughts are easier to fixate on, and thus you find yourself holding onto something you shouldn’t_.’

He had actually started to look forward to these sessions with the whimsical doctor, his initial opinion of her gradually shifting from apathy to respect. But whatever.

_That’s life_ , he reminded himself now he stood around oafishly, rejected by every passing cab.

Uber had been his first choice, but for whatever reason, his requests went unanswered. It seemed to Ben that today just happened to be the day that he went invisible to the rest of the world.

He had no idea why, either. He generally got good ratings as a passenger; he never spoke unless spoken to (if that), he never made a mess of the car, was always collected and discreet.

He double checked his phone and then saw why he hadn’t received a ride; he had no bars. He was standing in a complete dead zone.

He was just so angry, so frustrated over his busted morning. He didn’t want to make a scene at work, and technically he only came in for that one measly client. So he walked. Walked and walked and walked. Walked until he found himself in these parts; the streets seemed more cramped, just a shade darker than some of the others. The buildings had stood longer than the others. He wasn’t particularly familiar with the area, but he knew he could manage his way back to the dealership.

After those few passing moments of inner turmoil he began to make his way back. And then, the dam bursted; the smooth fabric covering his shoulders was being spattered with soaking droplets of rain.

_I just got this damn thing dry cleaned_ , he thought bitterly.

The suit material was fine, a mix of wool and cotton; it looked about as much as it cost, practically: a million bucks. A waste of a million bucks, he had to admit.

Ben was indifferent toward the extra material that weighed over his much-too-large shoulder range. He was used to nice things; that’s just how he was raised. He was used to the finer things in life. That’s what he grew up with; an accommodation that blended seamlessly into his adult life. It wasn’t luxury to him; the suit was just as suit, as far as he was concerned. But he had developed an immunity to the charm of it.

He appreciated it, sure. But it was just a failed answer to a question he wasn’t quite sure he could define, let alone be answered.

The inner fire inside had been under control lately; it was getting better. He had his good days and bad, and knew that was just the way it would be. He’d had more good ones than bad as of late. But right now, all his senses were being burnt by the embers.

Today of all days, the last thing he needed was to be showered by unwanted precipitation and left soaking on the outside, steaming on the inside.

His nose crinkled. He hated his allergies, and surely this would only make them worse.

He looked around, hoping to find some kind of haven. His eyes scanned the rows of commerce, hopeful to see something he was familiar with, like a Gregory’s or even Starbucks, but there was nothing. Just small markets and old department stores.

It was like his mind went blank, he couldn’t think of any options. It was as if his ability to think was as clouded as the sky; no taxis, no Ubers, he was too far from work and too far from the home, and it was raining. He wasn’t too familiar with the area, his powerful legs stammering the rest of him over to this random area. He had no reception. And now that he thinks of it... he thinks his phone battery icon might have been red when he last checked his service.

And then, he saw it: a shoddy, scrappy little coffee shop nestled between all the other shops. There was brick peaking out of the exterior cement, though it was clearly a sign of wear and tear, not done for aesthetics as many other cafes do.

The door was crooked open; it wasn’t a revolving glass door, it was a beaten up wooden door, similar to the ones old houses have. It reminded him of a chocolate bar. Above that, a neon sign that flickered off and on, glowing among the fog: ‘ _Café_ ,’ its red fluorescent letters read.

There were some windows, though. It seemed dim inside so he couldn’t make out all of the details but he saw there were chairs and tables near the window and there were a few nondescript figures moving about inside. There was also writing on the window in faded white paint; he couldn’t make out what exactly it said, just the letters ‘ _CIN’_ space between _, ‘N.’_ There also was a small, fuzzy looking silhouette on one of the windowsills.

_Is that... a cat?_

As the rain picked up, he decided to go inside. It beat waiting around for a miraculous taxi and getting drenched in the process. Maybe there’d be a charging outlet. Maybe even WiFi.

As he entered through the chocolate bar door, though, the last thing he expected to find in there was _her_.

This dynamic ball of energy zipped around the cafe, alternating between making and serving drinks to the various patrons.

She was all smiles, flashing her toothy, brilliant grin at everybody whose eyes she met. He couldn’t see her too well, since he was still lingering around the doorway to take the scene in, but he saw the cast of lines around her eyes; her smile was genuine, spread through her entire face. He couldn’t think of the last time he’d seen a barista smile so sincerely; hell, he couldn’t even think of anyone who smiled so freely. He knows he definitely hadn’t done so in ages.

He’d wince and mimic smiling around clients or whoever he needed to appeal to in that moment, but of all places, work was the last place he’d be caught expressing genuine joy.

_Is it this place? Is it this girl?_

He couldn’t put his finger on it.

As he stood there, tapping his index and middle finger against his lower lip, he realized that she was watching him.

Smiling as she did so.

_Maybe I’m not invisible today after all,_ he thought to himself as he hesitantly made his way to the register to order.

He felt like a colt on ice; unpracticed, unsure, unsteady.

It was so foreign to him to smile sincerely, but here he was. Starting to.

Even if he was the only one there who knew it. 

**Author's Note:**

> I’m just doing this one for fun and i want it to be a fairly lighthearted, easy read. I have ADHD and so I do refer to my own thoughts and experiences when telling this story. I personally don’t think it’s dark but to each their own!! I hope you guys like this! Lmk what you think in kudos/comments/messsages/etc!
> 
> Also thank you guys so so much on the wonderful words left on my other short story, The Lovers. The amount of kindness and encouragement that was shown to me has still got my head spinning!!! 
> 
> Say hi to me on twitter :))
> 
> twitter.com/an3lview


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